My dad‘s half Scots so New Year‘s Eve
You could‘nae be a sassenach
We‘d stay up late for Hogmanay
See old year out, a new one in.
He’d take a dram
And call us ‘bairns‘
And we’d be doing Highland flings
And swirling round as if in kilts
Accompanied by the skirling pipes.
And Andy Stewart on TV
Would host the Beeb‘s White Heather Club
And once a year we‘d all be Scots
And join in all the Scot‘s laments.
We‘d keep one eye upon the clock
We might be tired but none could sleep
Before it’s hands were at the top
And we had seen the New Year in.
And come the hour we‘d cheer, we’d hug
Our mum would give each bairn a kiss.
The arms would cross for Auld Lang Syne.
We’d sing to let the New Year in.
Then every window, every door
At dad‘s insistence we’d fling wide
And we’d feel the chill as the old year went
And a cold wind brought the new one in.
And we’d look for a neighbour
To cross our hearth with lucky coal
We’d seek a stranger dark and tall
Then luck would call.
But it often happened I recall
Sassanachs slept and none would call
Our celebration all gone flat
We’d go to bed and dad would drink.
A Happy New Year to you all Scots and Sassenachs alike!!
Andrew Green's Poems 